The Halo of Fire
by night-violet
Summary: Two individuals will bring balance to the force. Luke, groomed as a sith, champions for the Dark Side and the other drawn from Palpatine's guard, seeks redemption in the Light. Will Palpatine maintain his control over both, or break them when he can't?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Merely doing some reorganisation of the chapters and the content. Hope you enjoy. I should have written an intro a while back- apologies.**

**Disclaimer: I disclaim. Everything belongs to George, except the plot, (which is mine) and any OCs.**

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><p><strong>The Introduction<strong>

_Palpatine has been ruling as Emperor for the last 20 years, his iron fist crushing all those in opposition. His lapdog and puppet, Darth Vader has been instrumental in supporting and strengthening that dictatorship. Swallowed in his own darkness, Vader has retreated into himself; mechanically doing his master's bidding. To Palpatine's utter satisfaction, Vader is too broken to be redeemed. He has failed the Force. No longer the Chosen one, a suitable candidate must be found to replace him._

_Aware of this: Palpatine acts swiftly to prevent to the prophecy from coming into fruition. His strategy is simple: remove all remaining members of the Skywalker line, by neutralisation and coercion, or elimination._

_Leia Organa; an influential member of the alliance, princess of Alderaan and Padawan to the Jedi Master Obi Wan Kenobi, is beyond Palpatine's reach and control, posing a direct threat to Palpatine's carefully made plans._

_It is in the Imperial Academy graduate and now flight Lieutenant, Luke Skywalker that the Emperor sees true potential for exploitation. Luke is a blank canvas with no knowledge of the force. He is untainted by the Light, having had no prior contact with Jedi. His burning ambitions for freedom coupled with low self worth, provide Palpatine the perfect tools to corrupt and remove every trace of innocence. He would mould the boy into a sith – an apprentice stronger than his father, with initiative to lead rather than follow, and the intelligence to outplay all his opponents. Save one._

_However, Palpatine is mindful that the future is always dynamic. Prophecies can be rewritten if they are to be fulfilled. Radical detours can be made and destinies can be altered. As Luke plunges further into darkness, as Leia watches on helpless; the force will introduce another player to the game. This time, **two** individuals are needed to bring balance to the Force- both its dark and it light side. Divided loyalties, and self disillusion will prompt a formerly dependable pawn of Palpatine to waver towards the light. Will Luke, championing for the dark side break free from his master's chokehold or is Palpatine's drugging promise of freedom and power strong enough to bind his sith to him._

_Vader, Leia, Luke and Jade are chess pieces on palatine's board, playing his game, by his rules, to his strengths. Palpatine intends to maintain his hold over all four, in doing so manifest his ideal future. A future without a Chosen One._

**Teaser- taste of what's to come (later on):**

"Do you understand now?" Obi Wan asked Mara gently.

She turned off the light sabre, feeling its dead weight in soft hands. The tremor in her voice was apparent. "What have I got to do with any of this? What could _I_ possibly do to right this mess?"

Obi Wan tipped her chin upwards and said. "Ripples of discontent eventually form waves of change. You are _changing_, Mara." He smiled. "And change spreads."

"I don't..." She faltered, swallowing the growing lump in her throat.

"Don't doubt. Never doubt. Just trust." He took the light sabre from her and switched it on, before returning it back into her hands. "Again. Show me again."

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><p><strong>Reviews are most welcome for any and every chapt in the story. <strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: okay, guys, here's chapter 2. Please read, review and let me know what you think. This is set in the imperial palace, on the night of the annual imperial gala. All are in attendance. ****Comments/ constructive criticism/ positive feedback is much appreciated. Enjoy :)**

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><p>The annual imperial gala: a scene of tinkling of wine glasses, the exchange of perfunctory pleasantries in the glittering company of stiff lipped starch collared grand Moffs, bejewelled dancing courtesans, huddled scheming courtiers discussing the latest political intrigue, the . And then there was Mara Jade. A mind-numbingly bored Mara jade who could think of a hundred better uses of her time and the event had only started half an hour ago? She groaned internally.<p>

Lounging on plush cushions and fur throws in the centre of the great hall; she sipped her champagne with aloof disdain, passively noting the couples that waltzed exuberantly around her. However she was not feeling at all passive or comfortable. The dress she donned scratched against her skin like sandpaper- a black gauzy floor length creation of a famous coruscant designer. She had purchased it at the last minute when she accepted that nonattendance – an act of open defiance to her master- was an option she could not afford. As if the dress had been affordable, Mara thought ruefully.

_Tell me again why I am here?_

Because it is an event organised by the emperor to mark his coronation day and as his left hand (the right belonging to his tin man Vader) you are obliged to attend, she told herself. The explanation did little to placate her. She would give her right eye to be sparring in the practice halls or even dancing in the training rooms when the facilities were totally empty.

However the formal invitation sent to her palace quarters had been clear; she was to attend this celebration as a civilian. How long ago was it that she had ever been a civilian? Long before the age her training began. She had grown up in the palace. Presented to his highness as a toddler and then kept as his ward. The closest Palpatine ever had to a daughter and since Mara could not even remember her parents, the Emperor was as dear as a father to her. He had overseen her training- extensive and rigorous; in espionage, close combat, light sabre practice. She was skilled with a blaster – which she could fire blindfolded, and talent, combined with raw grit made Mara jade a formidable opponent. She worked initially as a fighter pilot in Grand Moff Tar kin's fleet and later as a Jedi hunter taking orders directly from her master. Mara jade knew her own worth. Her training meant she was a valuable resource to her master and she was proud to be used as one.

When she had first received the invitation a week ago, Mara was taken aback. She had been polishing her light sabre in her private drawing room, when the gilded envelope arrived. The message was simple - Palpatine wanted her presence at the imperial gala as a _civilian_. She had rechecked that the invite had been sent to the right address, turning over it in confusion, and building dread. Not required as security, not as a personal bodyguard, not even as a member of the Red Guard. Had she displeased her master? Although his mercurial temperament made him difficult to please, her recent missions had all been successful. She discarded that theory promptly not even wanting to consider the implications of evoking her master's displeasure.

Perhaps the emperor wanted her to mingle with the gentry, extract information and identify individuals with rebel sympathies. Surveillance was not her favourite speciality but it would help pass the time at the gala. However, when Mara Jade giving a passing glance to the last line of the invite, she nearly fell off the recliner.

_As an escort to Flight Lieutenant Skywalker, you will be expected to establish dialogue, formally introduce him to fellow members of the court, and ensure his comfort during his stay at the Palace. _

Escort? Her master wanted to reduce her to the status of an escort. And to Sky-who? Some unknown flight cadet, fresh out of the imperial academy, whose arrival at court had been arranged through the help of his family's political connections. This was the best joke she had heard in years. Mara would have laughed except her heart sank when she spotted the response letter she had to send back to gala organisers confirming her attendance with...with whoever he was. She reread the last paragraph.

_Ensure his comfort_ – over her dead body! She nearly entertained the notion of purging the holonet for details about this shady character who had so suddenly gained her master's favour. But she decided he was not worth her time. Flicking the red gold strands over her shoulder, she reclipped the light sabre to her belt and set about reading the case report she would present to her master that evening. Her master should know better than to send a naive bootlicking incompetent idiot Mara's way. She ground her back teeth together in annoyance. This was totally unnecessary.

She could refuse the Emperor. And be hit by sith lightening till kingdom come? Her previous experience of failing her master from five years back was still fresh in her mind.

The redhead considered the situation. The gala was a week away and she had no desire to babysit a lieutenant. In fact, she considered it odd that her master would even ask _her, his hand_ to accompany an obscure military official to court. Not unless he had plans for him, this Skywalker. She had not considered whether Skywalker had 'requested' her as his escort. The thought alone made her hackles rise. If that was the case, the brat would not know what hit him at the ball. She planned to rip him to apart and send his self-esteem packing!

That was a week ago. And right now there was no sign of the brat. Not that she cared. She gulped down her bubbly and ordered another one. Although the redhead was aware of her master's displeasure if she did not make the slightest effort to locate the boy, she was happy being bored by herself. (Happy being a totally relative term, and currently under the alcohol's influence.) She had however performed a brief background check on Skywalker, the results surprising, if not intriguing. How with his background, he had even managed to be invited to such an occasion with Mara Jade as an escort was astounding. She would definitely ask him about it in person.

"Lady Jade?"

Mara stilled. She realised how inattentive she had been to her surrounding when the deep vibrating baritone voice that had just sounded, stroked the sensitive shell of her ear, buffeting the soft red gold strands around it onto her flushed cheeks.

"I apologise for having kept you waiting."

Mara turned awkwardly to face the newcomer and came to one distinct conclusion. Skywalker had to come from the outer Rim world. Because on Coruscant, wearing a face like that caused traffic accidents. In a head - on collision sort of way.

A firm voice in the back of her mind whispered sternly that her reaction to his face was totally unacceptable.

_"You _assume that I, the Emperor's ward would wait on and for you." She stated coldly.

Luke blinked, once, twice, thrice. He had not expected such a strong reaction - the utter contempt. He noted the way her lower lip curled in distaste at his mere presence. He had offended her. That was the one thing he had not intended to do and he had no idea how to rectify it. He bowed briefly. "Madam, I sincerely apologise for making you wait."

"What is your reason for such tardiness?"

He knew his excuse sounded pathetic to his own ears and knew it would not convince her. He would not say it.

"No reason?" Her eyes brows lifted. The cadence of her voice dropped dangerously.

He stammered, trying to force words out but under the scrutiny of her glare his lungs seized. His windpipes closed. "I...err..."

She pursed her lips, the gleam in her eyes telling him that whatever preconceptions she had about his character had been confirmed totally. "No matter." She stated. The lady rose to her feet. "Good evening Skywalker. I suppose you have many commanding officers you would like to introduce yourself too." She dismissed him.

Luke had not had such an emphatic verbal put-down since he damaged his uncle speeder as a child. He watched the red-haired lady saunter away, in dismay. He did not know anyone else here and he was sticking out like a sore thumb; too conspicuous to lose himself in the crowd and too low in status to be worth lavishing attention upon. He retreated to the side of the great hall, acquiring a champagne glass from a kindly waiter, unsure of what to do next. He should have heeded Bigg's warning and not have come in the first place. He thought of his friend and fellow comrade and then he thought of Han – Han, whose position within the Imperial navy was precarious at best. At least Han would have had a prepared mental list of all the nearest cantinas and drink houses. Rather unsurprisingly, Han had not agreed to come either. "Fool." He scolded himself. And he sat like that for at least one and a half hours, pointedly ignoring all the coy wallflower ladies who were shooting him side-long glances at the start of each waltz.

Luke sighed, casually observing his fellow officers fawning over various influential naval persons. He could imagine the scene in his mind's eyes. "Good evening sire, I am (name) of the House (name). It is a great privilege to meet you. My father (such and such) would like me to pass on his compliments for your recent victory. My father flew alongside your commanding officer (name) in (such-and-such) battle. We would be honoured if you would attend our garden party on (such-and-such) date."

He was jolted from his thoughts by a familiar voice. "Skywalker." She stated, icily. "How unfortunate is it, we meet again."

He could not help the smile that broke across his face. "Lady Jade!"

She rolled her eyes at him. "The Emperor wishes to speak with you privately. You are to follow me."

Mara started across the hall, in a furious pace without a backwards glance, uncaring of whether the brat followed. As far as she was concerned, having to meet him twice at one event - this could not be happening.

He jogged to keep up with her. "What do you mean the Emperor want to see me? Have I done something wrong?"

Mara did not even deign him with an answer.

"Lady Jade?"

That tell-tale quaver in his voice was so apparent. Was he so completely clueless? Most officers would be bursting with their self-importance as to having a private audience with the Emperor. Best to put the hapless soul out of his misery she thought, in an uncharacteristic bout of mercy. Perhaps then he would stop nagging her with questions. "The Emperor wishes to congratulate you on your recent successes Skywalker...whatever they were."

Mara led him out of the hall onto a dimly lit corridor, down several winding passageways until she felt she disorientated him completely. Three minutes later, she stopped with him in step outside the throne room. The doors were closed, which meant the Emperor would not see him yet. Perhaps His Highness would make them wait five minutes, ten minutes...together. She shuddered. However the reason why the Emperor would even want to see Skywalker stumped her. Skywalker was a nobody. He even thought of himself as a nobody.

Yet in a way, he wasn't. She had been closely watching him the whole night from the balcony. He had not scurried after commanding officers. He had not even tried to secure himself a marriage, ally himself to one of the noble houses, discuss shady business deals with any of the Black Sun representatives or dally with the ladies- and there had been offers. The truth was, he had surprised her on many levels, striking crippling blows to all of her expectations of him. He was better than what she thought. Better than the men around him. At that point, something so biting and vicious lunged into her stomach, tearing into her and eating her like acid. He was a good man, a pure soul. And why did that bother her? It shouldn't bother her. But the fact remained that _he_ bothered her. Mara responded to the irritation in the only way she knew. She attacked. The awkward silence between them was broken, most inauspiciously.

"So what meritorious deeds have you done to earn your post, Lieutenant?" Mara snarled. "I wasn't aware that the Imperial navy reserved positions for charity cases from backwater planets."

It was totally unnecessary and she knew it; verbally attacking a good natured person simply out of spite. What spite? _Spite for yourself and all your flaws_. Her one redeeming quality she owned was that Mara could recognise purity when she saw it. The man standing before her was pure gold. His shining blue eyes were full of a child's innocence and hopes. _And yet you despise it with all your heart._

She could see he was taken aback by her venom. Luke opened and closed that mouth several times, words escaping him, but his searching eyes traced her form with disbelief, her porcelain face delicate as fine bone china, grassy green eyes and even as far as the cradle of her childbearing hips. So, she concluded, he had not expected the assault, and Mara aimed to rectify his unrealistic rose –tinted opinion of her.

"Lady Jade." There was that marked hesitation where his voice faltered. A small hiccup. She almost pitied him for his mild mannered ways. But his voice gained strength as he spoke. "I should thank you."

"Whatever for?" She fanned herself, glancing absently at the tapestries on the opposite walls of the corridor, pointing out how tiresome it was to have to engage with him in conversation.

"You are one of the few people to acknowledge that I acquired my position through steady hard work." He said so quietly, so softly.

Mara realised her mistake instantly. The fanning stopped. She stared at him with incredulity. She did not want his gratitude. She tipped her chin upwards. The fanning resumed with a faster rate. "One would hardly assume your familial influence would stretch that far." She snorted. "But you are so gracious Skywalker. I'll give you that. It must be one of the many character traits your traditionalist mother aimed to foster in you...and your seven siblings."

Luke tried to ignore the stinging jibe at his heritage. He did not even know his mother. He did not even know this woman. This beautiful haughty aristocrat standing before him with a fan in one hand, a champagne glass in another, and he did not know what he had even said to upset her, to goad her to lash out him and lambast his entire genealogical lineage.

"I suspect it must have taken you twice as long to reach your current position as the standard imperial cadet." She chose not to mention what his current position was as that would only signal that she had been paying attention to him, and that she cared. Mara scanned him vertically, noting his broad shoulders, spindly waist and strong columns of his thighs. There had to be some fat farm wench who cared for him, besides his mother. He seemed like the kind of boy even mothers-in-law adored.

He acknowledged with a brief shrug of the shoulders, "It was harder I admit. The officers did not take me seriously at first."

Modest too. Mara dropped her gaze uncharacteristically to floor, running her stiletto heel into faint grooves in the granite. Why was she feeling sicker by the minute, just talking to him, just standing in his presence? The churning nauseating feeling in her stomach in her stomach threatened to overwhelm her, the acrid tang of bile teasing her taste buds to react in a violent fashion. She was jealous? _Of what?_ She challenged herself to even follow that train of thought, knowing full well where it was heading.

"You're from Tattoine." She stated when she realised she had been silent for too long.

Luke let out a breath he had not been aware of holding, A smile relaxing his sunbaked features. "Yeah...well. You seem to know a lot about me. I don't even know where you're from.

She ignored the last statement, throwing back her magnificent head of flames. "II make it business to know the people I have dealings with."

Luke spluttered, "Dealings? I thought we were just talking ma'am." He almost laughed at her use of the word. "I only met you 2 hours ago."

And Mara did not like that. Her smile was saccharine sweet and in a deliberately honeyed voice she replied, "And here we are two hours later having a heart to heart about your dustbowl of a planet and why you decided to leave it.

"Can I get you a drink?" HE gestured at her near empty champagne glass.

"Do I make you uncomfortable, is that why you're changing the subject?" She turned to face him head on and a barrage of exotic scents battered his nostrils. Wildflowers.

"No milady, I...err..." He denied vehemently, hands raised, looking escape this current form of questioning. But Luke had to admit, the lady was not as tense as before.. She enjoyed seeing him squirm that was obvious. And if he had to squirm just to make her stay another five minutes, he did not mind.

"Do you honestly think you can make the Emperor wait for you, the same way you made me wait earlier, Skywalker. I assure you, he will not accept the reason for your tardiness." She imitated his voice mockingly, "_I was fetching lady Mara a glass of champagne. I sincerely apologise your Highness."_

"I'm sorry. That was stupid of me." He conceded, chuckling. "How about I fetch you another glass after the 'interview' ends...if you don't mind staying, that is? I don't think I remember the way back."

"I find your honesty refreshingly different." The uncensored spontaneous statement was out before she could stop herself.

He smiled again, warm and welcoming. It was true though, Mara admitted reluctantly. She avoided nice people as a rule because they threatened her on a basic level she could not understand. People like Breha Orgaana who hugged her so spontaneously and kissed her cheek at the previous imperial gala and told Mara she looked beautiful. Mara had been so taken aback that she was speechless for minutes. What could she have said? She removed herself from the embrace and excused herself hurriedly. Because the Emperor's Hand who could fight three Falleens at once, had been completely disarmed by a petite frail woman. "I've been to Tattoine." She remarked candidly. "I stayed with a Hutt called Jaba. There's a thriving slave trade there." She drained the last of the champagne. "Are you here to trade one brand of slavery for another?" If Skywalker had any sense, he would go back home.

Skywalker misunderstood her, evidently from the way his eyes bulged out of their sockets. "You have slaves here at court?"

She gave him her empty glass, and chuckled. "We are all slaves here."

"I don't understand."

She looked into those ocean-blue orbs and marvelled at his naiveté. "Welcome to the Imperial court farmboy. Those in attendance are slaves to their senses, ambitions and greed." She made a deliberate pause. "What we long to possess will eventually consume our thoughts, dictating our actions."

Luke stared at redhead for what seemed like minutes. She had not been pleasant to him, but tonight she had only been the only one to acknowledge him, who he was and where he had come from. He needed to know she was different from the people she had been describing. That she was moving in social circles that she never fell in with; that despite her appearance that conformed with imperial standards, that she was like him...normal. He truly wanted to believe that. So he asked her bluntly.

"Are _you_ a slave?"

Perhaps she saw, the way her eyes flickered to the candles in the wrought iron holder, and back to his face uneasy, knowing somehow what the true significance of her answer would be to him. What she wanted to say, what she truly wanted to believe and the sobering reality of her situation contrasted markedly. His question made her think too deeply, about allegiances forged years ago to her Emperor, matters she would not question, would not contemplate, would not even pause to think about. She knew she should put out that flame of hope she could reflected like the candles in his shining eyes.

"The emperor is my master. She answered bluntly. "Doesn't that make me a slave?"

Skywalker countered. "But you are his ward. You are under his protection."

_I am not an innocent. I have never needed protection. _She felts her hackles rise. Mara straightened up. Skywalker knew clearly nothing about her. At the age of ten she had had blood on her hands - the blood of innocents. That was as close as she had ever been to becoming one, she thought sarcastically. "And so in my gratitude, I am duty bound to serve that Emperor who made me his ward.

Skywalker looked dismayed. "You admit you are a slave."

"Yes but the real question is am I slave to my duty or a slave to my master."

He shook his head, those forlorn puppy eyes regarding her with sadness.

She almost wanted to smack that downcast face few till was red and raw. He knew nothing. _I am the child that Palpatine raised. How can you expect me to be different? _Mara asked curtly. "And why are you here Skywalker?"

Luke hand automatically brushed the insignia of his regiment, his voice acquiring a new edge to it. _Life is full of surpises_, Mara thought - and she had been under the impression he was as meek as a lamb. "I am here Lady Jade because the Emperor invited me, in honour of my good services for the Empire."

_Now_ she remembered, he had been the pilot who intercepted a cargo freight full of rebel supplies over Hoth, the one responsible for obtaining blueprints of the new model rebel X wings planes. How she could forget the wide eyed, radiant latest navy golden boy whose face had been plastered across the holonet for weeks? The boy who needed to singlehandedly take on a rebel fleet if he wanted to get his first promotion. Perhaps that promotion was long overdue. _Or perhaps not. _Mara gritted her teeth furiously. She could not explain her intense reaction to him. It was _not_ a case of animal attraction – yes, she liked her pilots, but she liked her bad boy Correlians better – not spineless, tree hugging, Tattoine farm boys who thought the world was full of flowers...or rather fertiliser.

"What if being a slave was beneficial?" She turned on him. "A faithful servant of the Empire. That is what I am. Aren't you?"

That was something he could not and would argue. She smiled inwardly at the brilliance of her statement. She had check-mated him. If he stated his allegiances did not lie with Emperor, he was committing an act of treason, punishable by death by firing squad. "I am not a slave." He said after a long pause.

"You aren't?" A bemused Mara asked. Stay here and you will be corrupted eventually. "Oh but I think you are. Tell me do you follow your orders because the person who gave them to you outranks you or because it is in the interests of the Empire and as a faithful servant of the Empire you do your duty.

"i am not a slave." He said defiantly. _I am not shackled_. _I will not be held back by anyone or anything._ His voice was quaking, his fists clenching and unclenching. For once, the calm pilot looked unhinged...shaken. The ragged breaths that tore out of his chest were evidence. True – ambition did not drive him. She could see it in his eyes what did. Desperation. Exasperation. The little angel was desperate to leave his farm, his suffocating parents, and the barren existence on his desert planet, desperate to leave the outer rim, to make something of his life. He looked for opportunities and freedom and he had found it in the cockpit. In his TIE he was in flight; in total control, his direction, his speed. However the red tape and bureaucracy of the imperial navy had not allowed him to rise, to prove himself, and he had felt just as restrained as he had on his stuffy moisture farm. He had come to Court when he found the opportunity, hoping to find new challenges, new excitement. This place will ruin you Skywalker. It will bleed you dry and then you'll be the rest of us shallow, hollow, empty and suffering. For someone who wanted control of his own life, it was better for him to leave before this place shackled him. Plus Mara did not know how long she would last if she had to encounter that infuriating sunny disposition on a daily basis. Her resentment would eat her from inside.

"I make my own decisions."

She pursed her lips, shooting a deliberate glance at his rank insignia on his uniform. "And you make your own decisions every day? Are you telling me the imperial navy has given free rein to its pilots to do as they please?" She leered maliciously. "What would you do, if you did not agree with your orders? Would you still follow them?"

"My orders would never outline me to hurt civilians."

Such a textbook answer, Mara thought. "Civilians, Skywalker, are the just statistics on a piece of paper to your superiors. Don't you know that? At their worst, they are complication and at their best, they are totally dispensable. In fact, I am surprised you don't agree.

"I'd never harm civilians – even if had to go against my orders."

Mara felt the breath rush out of her. She stared at him with disbelief; His audacity, his strength of conviction, and utter foolishness. "Free mind with a strong moral compass." And a damn the consequences attitude that Mara could not even think of replicating with Palpatine. She liked her limbs – attached that were. "Such a good boy. Your mother would be proud."

He winced.

Mara observed this and did not comment. "See Skywalker, You are a slave but not to ambition, unfortunately to your conscience, to your duty to the Republic, to the greater good." And everything stuffy romance novels liked have in a protagonist. Mara had read her fair share of these but she would cut off her right arm than admit to ever doing so. She hounded him again. "Do you know why it took you so long to be promoted? I imagine your peers from the academy are in much higher posts than you are or are enjoying comfortable desk jobs."

She circled him slowly; her sharp gaze lingered on the tension between his shoulder blades, and the tightening muscles in his tanned face. So, he was not immune to jealousy. Much better. She liked the response she was getting – proof that Skywalker was not as passive as he came across and proof that even cherubins had a mean streak.

"It's nothing to do with your skill, family connection, finances, questionable background. Their sole reason for doing was personal advancement and gain. "Following orders and personal advancement does not clash. One is end and the other a means to that end. A truly dedicated pilot would understand that logic; follow orders implicitly and rise higher in the chain of command. Their decisions are made for them, so they don't rethink them through. All they have to do is execute their orders." She took a breath. "Skywalker, let me guess, you will require a sort of moral imperative before you conduct an mission. Your commanding officers will probably have to sit you down and treat to a cup of tea and a bible reading at every briefing. You will always hesitate. You lack the efficiency and ruthlessness to execute orders. You have a conscience which you always consult every time you make a decision. Your conscience clouds your mind with doubts when what you really need is a clear head. That makes you slow to act in a crisis because you will try to weigh up all options, balance all interests, and please all parties. You see Skywalker, sometimes it is not a bad thing to be a slave to ambition, a slave to your own ends. One- you would have your priorities sorted a long time ago. Two - you would have probably been made lieutenant years ago. She licked her lips, before striking the final blow.

"For someone who clearly values his freedom, and his seedy cantinas, sabacc tables with unscrupulous characters as drinking companions – I expect responsibility for you is another form of slavery." She smirked. "Your commanding officers will perhaps have taken this into account when assigning promotions."

It was at that point, the doors opposite the pair swung open to admit a thin balding man, bearing the insignia of the Ubiqtorate - the highest order of Imperial Intelligence. "The Emperor will see you now Flight Lieutenant Skywalker in the throne room." He said in a clipped tone. "Lady Jade, you are permitted to accompany Flight Lieutenant Skywalker into the throne room.

Barely recovered from her vicious onslaught, a troubled Luke was led into the dimly lit cavernous room, to face the Sith master who would shake his principles to core and fracture his spirit beyond redemption. One by one, the candle flames in the 12 branched wrought iron holder, flickered and died beside him.

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><p><strong>So what do you think? <strong>


	3. In the Throne Room

**A/N: Apologies for the delay, here is the next chapt. Thanks must be said to nucphyschem, who has agreed to beta-read this fic. The quote at the bottom is by Ralph Waldo Emerson. Hope you all enjoy reading.**

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><p>"Come to me." A gnarled tapering finger, as ancient and twisted as a tree root beckoned from the Emperor's gaping sleeve.<p>

Luke took two firm steps forwards him and never before become so conscious of how loud boot falls were. The sound reverberated off the floor, clanging like death knells off the walls and pillars and finally escaping as tortured screams, wailing into the space above. The echoes did not die for a long time. Luke stopped abruptly lowered his head in an apologetic bow and shuffled forwards, taking smaller tentative steps.

He heard the rustle of fabric and recognised the lady Jade's presence. She had moved into position a few steps behind him, her gaze totally focused on the ground in the picture-perfect pose of servitude.

"I cannot see your face." The voice called out a second time.

Luke swallowed nervously and dared look up at the seated figure. The Emperor was wearing a simple black cloak, and a hood that covered his face that only his chin was visible. A stark white chin through which a single scar meandered. The room he had walked into, known as the throne room felt like the inside of a cathedral at night. The pillars lining the walk to the throne were lit by ominously flickering blue flamed candles. They only shone enough light to make the stones of the pillars visible and not the path that led onwards. There were many such candles and many such pillars; tiny fairy lights that begged the traveller to halt by the side of the path and evade the darkness that waited for them ahead at the end of the road.

"Come forwards." The voice called again.

Despite his muscles locking, Luke felt himself move further towards the dais, flanked by Lady Jade. There were no candles on the pillars close to the dais. When he had reached the bottom three steps of the dais, Luke dropped on one knee. The dais at the end of the walk was where the jewel studded throne was located, like an altar. However there were no stain glassed windows behind it or bread and wine placed on it and no God in this place. There was only the chilling bite of darkness and the crackling energy in the air of incredible power, like charges building before a lightning strike.

"Lift up your chin, Luke. Let me look at you."

Luke did as commanded, unsure of why his face would hold such an appeal for the Emperor. The meandering scar on the Emperor's chin contracted, shortening in length. He sensed the Emperor was smiling. He had no idea why.

"Yes." A faint hiss issues from within the hood. "Yes. I see you."

The Emperor's hood dropped suddenly. In that stunned moment, Luke would now also see. Cerulean blue eyes met with yellow. Yellow eyes of a snake. Luke blinked and the image was gone. His gaze refocused on an elderly, seemingly frail man, with a warm welcoming smile of a grandfather. The scar on his chin had almost faded to nothing, and there were only lines of age and not from conflict that creased his skin. It must have been his imagination. Luke shook himself and tried to focus on what the Emperor was saying.

"You look shocked, Luke. " He chuckled. "Does my presence instil such slack-jawed awe in you, or is it fear?"

"No Sir. It is not fear." Luke dropped his head immediately. Well if it was not fear, why did his palms feel so clammy?

"Then what do you see?" The Emperor invited Luke to gaze upon him once more like an equal. Yet he was not an equal, not in any way.

Luke stammered. "Pardon?" The Emperor seemed to enjoy the sport of matching wits like Mara Jade and Luke's experience of verbal sparring with her had left him sorely bruised and vulnerable to the core. He realised how totally inept he was at the word games that the rest of the court was so fluent in. He was not at all ready for round two with an even more skilled opponent, physically, mentally, emotionally. In fifteen minutes, Lady Jade had presented him with a damning yet accurate character profile outlining his flaws and more flaws. The fact he was sick of being on a farm, not going anywhere in life. The fact he just wanted to taste freedom and that his TIE had given him that – almost. He just wanted to prove himself, test himself and show everyone he was more than just Luke. When he finally realised that the Emperor was still waiting for his answer, he looked behind him for clues. Lady Jade kept her eyes firmly on the ground as the rest of her face pulled into a scowl. She would not be offering any help.

"I ...err...see an emperor."

A bemused Palpatine asked, "What else do you see besides an Emperor?"

Drat. Luke eyebrows performed a far more complicated aerial manoeuvre than his piloting skills allowed. His voice was cracking and his brain had no answer to relay to his mouth. Luke knew one thing; he was standing before the most powerful humanoid in the known world. He could not afford to give a 'wrong' answer.

"Umm." His voice quavered. "I see..."

"Yes?"

"I see... an old man." The statement was out before he could censor it. Luke gasped and clasped a hand over his own mouth lest anything else would spill out. Mara Jade looked ready to faint. The most powerful humanoid in the known world had a guarded look about him. That was when it truly dawned on Luke that he had just given a 'wrong' answer.

The words that came out from the Emperor acquired a steely edge. "You think me weak Luke?"

Luke spluttered. "No, Sir!"

"You think you can break me?"

Luke dropped his head subserviently, showing increasing desperation. "Of course not, Your Highness." He placed his hand over his rapidly beating heart. "I live to serve only."

Mara took a sharp intake of breath. She could not believe her ears. Had she heard wrong?

With those four words, her foolhardy pilot had sealed his fate by inexplicably tying it to Palpatine's.

_ I am not a slave._

Palpatine's mouth twisted into an ugly smile. Mara swayed on her feet ever so slightly. The greatly satisfied Emperor spoke, "I assure you young Luke, I am not frail. I can still walk perfectly fine unaided." His eyes sparkled in seeming benevolence. "Though I should be having some problems for someone my age, shouldn't I?"

Luke did not know how to respond and bit his lower lip, keeping his silence.

"Shall I tell you my secret?" The Emperor jested. "It is the Force. You must have heard of it."

The pilot nodded hesitantly. "I have heard of the Force."

"But you know nothing else of it?" The Emperor asked, demanding an immediate answer.

"No Sir."I've only heard of the Force."

The Emperor's tense and hardened facial features relaxed a fraction. Luke realised he must have given him the 'right' answer.

Palpatine analysed the youth before him, pausing before delivering the most important message he had to give. Something to remain fixed and planted in Luke's brain for his entire life - A notion that Luke, like Mara, would carry to the grave. _Even when there comes a time where you forget your own name, Skywalker, you will never forget what I will tell you now._ "Young man." He said. "Let me tell you about the Force. The force itself is a vast energy field that individuals add to and feed on. It is a vast limitless power and..." He paused for effect. "...and I control the Force."

Luke's eyes were as wide as dinner plates as he even tried to contemplate what he had just heard. "Sir, the force is under...your control?"

"I command it, the same way I command you."

He stuttered, forgetting his place as he addressed the Emperor once more. "But Sir, that is not possible."

"You don't believe me?" Palpatine's eyebrows rose. "Of course, you would find it difficult to understand." He waved his arms around, gesturing at the empty space around them. "The force is vast, boundless, and impossible to experience through the senses. You can experience the effects of the Force but _not_ the Force itself. In your mind's eye, I am a single entity. I am bound in a small humanoid form. On the scale of the Force, my physical form does not compare in size with it. But in the Force, unlike all other beings, I retain my individuality. I do not merge in it. Thus I can draw power from it and from all the living things that have contributed to it, navigate my way through it and manipulate it to serve my own purpose. I can control the force because _I_ exist within it." Palpatine leered. "I know what it is like to taste freedom. When everyone else and everything else is bound and bonded to the Force, I am separate.

Hairs rose on the back of Luke's neck. Thoughts raced through his head so quickly he felt like he was drowning in them, simply unable to process the rapid amount of information, the consequences of what the Emperor had to say.

"Perhaps I can give you a simpler analogy, young Skywalker. If you imagine the force is the space around you, I am a pilot who can guide his aircraft through it. I am not part of the empty space. I am not as vast as the space. Yet I can do so much within it."

Luke's eyes widened as he considered the possibilities.

Palpatine sat back in his seat and watched with grim satisfaction as a troubled young Skywalker pondered on the matters of the Force. The message had affected him on some level. Good. Scars never faded and neither would Palpatine. He interrupted Luke's thoughts rudely.

"Would you like me to demonstrate?"

The answer came spontaneously. "Yes."

The Emperor smiled. "Close your eyes, Luke."

And yet it was Mara who tensed, remembering her own experience; the First contact with the Force. It had hardly been contact. The moment she closed her eyes, that fateful day, seven years ago, her consciousness slammed with a Force so overpowering and overriding, it swallowed her whole. A great energy surge like a thousand million amplified beams of cold sith lightning channelled into her, stampeding and breaking every wall she had erected around herself. When it reached the very essence of her, that power had slowed its approach, touched her tenderly and tore her wide open. From Form, Mara became Formless. Like a droplet of water that fell in the ocean, the moment she hit the surface, the moment she had had that first contact, she was immersed in its motion, and lost completely. She did not exist as a human, as a mind, or even as a name but as within the Force. She could feel the ripples, the surges, the rolling waves of energy pulsating through her being, rocked her strong and the calm eddies that held her steady. There were no barriers between her and other beings. They were all part of the Force. They all existed as One. When she had regained her consciousness minutes later, Mara did not feel whole. Parts of her felt physically missing, as though the Force had taken them and swallowed them. Mara never ventured far into the Force again, lest she lose more of herself and return with something, someone she barely recognised with a cleaner, less tarnished soul. Her flaws made her who she was. But her other great fear was to be left so open, so vulnerable to the only being who would remain separate even within the Force. She could raise walls and erect shields around her Master in person, but in the Force she was totally transparent and open to attack.

Mara shook herself free from the memory's grasp and concentrated on Luke's face. It held an expression of unshakable calm. His eyelids fluttered open slowly.

"How did it feel?" Her Master asked him.

He took deep laboured breaths, slowly taking stock of his surroundings. "It blasted through me. I've never...never felt so..."

"Squat down if you need to."

Luke almost obliged, clearly shaken from the event, but determined to put a show of strength in the Emperor's presence. "I felt connected in the Force." He whispered.

Mara jolted to full wakefulness. Connections, as in connections to people? The only connection she had ever felt to anyone in the Force had been to her master and that was because he was forcibly holding her in that mental frame of mind, allowing her to experience it. Once immersed in the Force, as an entity, she no longer existed.

"To whom were you connected?" Palpatine asked with growing unease.

"I'm not sure." he said. "It felt familiar. It was like I was holding a string in my hand or rather, something I could not see the end of, but I knew it was connecting me to someone familiar. I could feel warmth travelling down that bond."

Palpatine steepled his hands in his lap, lapsed in thought. "How many connections did you feel?" The wrinkles in his forehead deepened, anticipating Luke's answer to see whether it would tally with his own prediction.

"Three."

Palpatine nodded grimly. "But one was a faint connection? Did it feel weak?"

"Yes." He answered. "One was always slipping out- it was hard to hold."

"Was it pulling you sometimes?"

"No that one didn't but the other two did. I pulled on them. They held me, otherwise I would have drowned."

A long uneasy silence followed with Luke contemplating over the experience. Palpatine stared into space for some time. Mara acknowledged Luke's own power. To form connections within the Force, one had to be powerful enough to retain enough self. However, who would one form connections with? Other people who were also force-strong? Jedi? Mara chewed her lower lip in confusion. Minutes passed. Eventually, the Emperor clapped his hands together, unceremoniously breaking the silence.

"Enough talk of the idle matters that do not concern! I trust Luke; you have enjoyed the ceremony and the evening's delights. I summoned you here to the throne room because I wanted to congratulate you over your successes on Hoth."

Luke inclined his head respectfully, though still a little distracted.

"I am reassigning you onto a core fleet, where you will be of much greater use to me. I see tremendous potential in you and I believe you to be worthy of the post."

His voice faltered. "Thank you, Sir."

"Do not fail me."

_I only live to serve. _

The words echoed in Mara's mind over and over again.

The Emperor snapped his fingers. "Isaard! Escort Flight Lieutenant Skywalker out." The Ubiqtorate official marched from the very entrance of the throne room to stand by Luke's side, before offering a quick curt salute to the Emperor and proceeded to show Luke the way out.

Mara curtseyed and then straightened immediately, turning to leave with the pair.

"Not you, Mara."Palpatine declared.

Her heart pounded inside her ribcage, flitting like a frightened songbird trapped in a gilded cage and so claustrophobic it needed escape. She needed to leave now.

"Stay." Came the command.

Mara schooled herself. She was not ready to meet the Emperor like this. _Strengthen your shields. Do not let him find a weakness._ What was wrong with her? Two minutes ago, she was fine and now she was a quivering mess. _Because you remember the same conversation he had with you last year. You never forgot it either. _

_**I live to serve.**_The haunting expression ricocheted inside her skull like a breathing became increasingly shallow.

_You said the same thing Mara._

She looked at her master, reclining back in a slouch on the throne, looking deceptively lazy._ This is how a tiger pounces. It invites the prey to lower their guard and drop their shields_. Palpatine took slow sips from a glass of red wine._ Then it makes the kill._

"There can be no room for doubts in your mind." Palpatine said ominously, swirling the red liquid in his flute.

"I don't have doubts." She said all too quickly.

"Good."

She tried to compose herself, difficult as it was under her master's watchful eyes.

He said."You have never failed me Mara." _As yet..._His question was obvious and left unspoken: _**Do you still live to serve?**_

She quelled any traitorous thoughts and plaguing inner voices, acknowledging her Master. "With all my heart, Master. I am yours." She believed what she was saying. She had to.

Palpatine's grin was feral. "I know."

Isaard escorted the flight lieutenant out, quietly closing the door of the throne room behind him. "Your audience with the Emperor is concluded, Skywalker. Would you need redirecting to the great hall?"

Luke tried to look past the stone-faced official, over his shoulder at the closed heavy oak door. Lady Mara was inside. Perhaps he could wait for her.

"Lady Jade does not need an escort, Flight Lieutenant. The Emperor's ward is quite capable of navigating the corridors of her home."

It took Luke a few seconds to realise that he had been given an abrupt dismissal. "Ahh...yes." He offered a quick salute which the official reciprocated. "Which way do I go?" He asked hesitantly. Isaard provided a quick sketchy outline of the route. Perhaps he would meet Lady Jade back at the great Hall. Luke felt it impolite to say goodbye before seeing her. He may never have the chance to see her again, which was saddening.

A second promotion? He had not expected that and certainly not from the Emperor. He thought suddenly of Biggs and Han; Biggs who was so quickly climbing up the promotion ladder in the outer rim fleets and Han who was waiting court martial. One had a dazzling carer ahead of him and the other's future looked bleak. Think of your own future, Luke. Perhaps he could start afresh in the core fleets, where pilots were considered on the merit of their abilities and not on stretch of their influence. Well, he could hope.

And what of the Force? To control the force and to exist as a separate entity within the force, the thought alone was both exhilarating and frightening, now that he had experienced the raw power of it firsthand. It had hurtled into him so fast, he had felt disembowelled. He kept walking not paying too much attention to where he was going until – SMACK!

He found himself staring into wide curved brown eyes that stared back at him between two cinnamon buns of rich brown hair.

"I'm so sorry ma'am. Here let me help you."

The lady righted herself and the fabric of her elegant white ballroom dress, watching as Luke stooped to pick up the documents he had knocked from her hands. "Here you go."

"You're not a storm trooper." She stated her observation. Her accent was not Coruscanti but her aristocratic inflections were melodious. "You're too short, for a start."

He watched her visually inspect him with undisguised curiosity.

"And too polite."

He introduced himself. "My name's Luke Skywalker. I am a flight lieutenant, originally based in the Hoth system, Anoat sector.

She extended a pale callous-free hand, attached to a slender wrist, both free of any ornaments. "Leia Organa of the Royal House of Alderaan. Her smile was as radiating, as she was. Though her frame was slight, she carried herself like a queen.

"Your highness, my apologies!"

She caught his wrist before he bowed. "There is no need, Luke Skywalker." She remarked. "For a pilot who is based in the Hoth, you have a tanned complexion."

"I come from Tatooine, your Highness."

"Tatooine." She furrowed her brows as if the word meant something to her. "Yes, the binary star system of the Arkanis sector, in the outer rim." She was almost quoting a textbook passage.

She quickly glanced at the documents to make sure she had all the necessary documents and then at her chrono. "I'm sorry if this sounds rude but I'm delivering a speech in fifteen minutes before the noble houses of Coruscant. I refuse to call this planet Imperial City! Hopefully we will meet again, Luke Skywalker.

"Goodbye your Highness."

She smiled once more. "Goodbye."

He watched the statuesque beauty stride confidently down the corridor, before letting out a huge breath. "Wow."

However he had failed to note the dark shadow that trailed closely behind Leia.

* * *

><p><strong>Partly encoded Rebel transmission interecepted by the Imperial Intel:<strong>

_There is no Knowledge that is not Power. _

_Be safe. love Leia._


	4. Damage Control

**A/N: Firstly, there is some violence detailed (not overly graphic,) so read at your own risk!**

**Secondly: the character Winter Celchu is actually Leia's adopted sister, but in this fic , her role can be confused with bodyguard/ handmaiden. I am aware of this!**

**Thirdly: This fic is very AU as you guessed. My Leia is tough and vulnerable - a little unconventional.**

**Fourthly: ****Thank you for the reviews so far. I hope you enjoy reading. I personally enjoy reading reviews. So hopefully we can keep each other happy. hint hint )**

* * *

><p>"Congratulations on the speech, Organa."<p>

Leia turned and the expression on the well-wisher who had greeted her was hardly congratulatory. The smile she readily adopted froze on her face, before crumpling into a grim frown. She turned away from the various senators she had been in deep conversation, to focus her entire attention on the Falleen Lord - The Falleen Lord who had chosen to accost her publically in front of all the Senators, in the Great Hall. Their speculative whispering had quietened, though not noticeably. Senators strained their ears, eager to hear the exchange between the sole member of the Alderaan's Royal House and the leader of the Black Sun Empire; on a topic no one had dared mention yet.

She deposited the papers she had been holding in her handmaiden's arms and replied flatly. "Thank you Xizor."

The Falleen, who stood at a towering six foot five inches, loomed over her in a robe of deep Royal purple and studied her intently. "The speech was well received."

"Again, thank you." It was a curt dismissal.

Lord Montieth of Naboo, a fellow galactic senator and potential rebel sympathiser shifted uncomfortably beside her, his wine glass threatening to slide out between his stubby fingers.

"Shame your father was not here to deliver it." Xizor said offhandedly.

It was a riposte Leia should have anticipated. Years of studying the strategies of political opponents had provided her with a good measure of humanoids like Xizor. However attacking her so openly without provocation was a trait very much out of his character and she was momentarily ruffled. Leia centred herself and responded coolly. "Lord Organa is indisposed."

The Falleen chuckled at her choice of words, and the simple act irritated her beyond reason. Yet, she knew that in front of him, an unshakeable calm facade had to be maintained and claws would have to remain sheathed.

"Indisposed? Does that mean unwell or unwilling to attend?" He added. "I've not heard your father speeches in a long time."

She reminded him coldly. "My father does not conduct business with the Black Sun. There would be very little reason for him to speak with you and in any case, words are wasted on you, Lord Xizor."

He pressed again, conspicuously raising his voice. "Instead your dear father prefers business with the Rebels."

Within her own group, the silence had become pin drop and the atmosphere increasingly charged at Xizor's use of the word 'rebel.' Association with the rebel organisation was prohibited and punishable by death by repeated blaster fire. She could feel Montieth edging away from her, retreating into the relative safety of another huddle of other senators. Damn! He would have made a useful ally, had her conversation with him not been so rudely interrupted. An evening's work of subtle sidestepping and promising negotiations had been completely undone by this slimy, interfering reptile. It was also at this point it registered in Leia's mind her very precarious position in the court. One slip, and into the Sarlacc pit, she would fall. She already had a huge target sign planted on her back and those she conversed with did not want to share her awaiting fate. She snapped, "Before you make accusations, you should have all the evidence present."

"The evidence you are ignoring right now, Organa, in the face of such accusations is your father's sudden abdication, his resignation from the senate, withdrawal from making court appearances and his complete disappearance from the galaxy. In fact, if my intelligence is correct, all of the 7 Alderaan Royals fled as soon as the Imperial Navy issued arrest warrants."

"There is an ongoing Ubiqtorate investigation into such accusations and I don't believe I need to disclose information with you."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, I heard something about the provision of training facilities for rebel fighter pilots on Alderaan and the _loss_ of 400 000 credits from the Royal Treasury that were _found_ in Rebel pockets."

She said stiffly. "I am not commenting on an ongoing investigation, Xizor."

He ploughed on, ignoring her remonstrations. "But what amazes me Organa, is that when the Royal House of Alderaan has been so inescapably linked to the Rebellion, _you_ still have the gall to show your face in the Imperial City before the Emperor, before the Senate, and before your own people."

Xizor had struck a nerve.

Leia responded in kind. "Perhaps you have so quickly forgotten, that when my father abdicated, I was sworn into his office as the Queen of Alderaan. And as Queen, it is my duty to be present at this Gala representing the people of my nation."

This off-planet excursion by a newly appointed Queen was an attempt to show solid support for Emperor; a denial of Alderaan's involvement with the Rebellion; and to deflect attention of the Imperial Navy away from Alderaan. This was an event she _had_ to attend. Leia _had_ to make a speech spewing out as much vomit about the grandeur of the Empire and the gratitude of the Alderaan people to the stability and prosperity that Palpatine provided. She even promised full cooperation with Imperial Navy on taking a firm decisive stance against the Rebellion. A whole pack of lies that made her sick to the stomach. However, Palpatine's threat of military action against Alderaan was very real. She would not give Palpatine a single excuse to do so. The last thing she wanted was an Emperor-backed incursion of her planet, the overthrow of a 700 year monarchy and the establishment of a puppet government on Alderaan with Emperor pulling all the strings. That might happen...but over her dead body.

"You represent the people at great personal expense Organa." Xizor sneered, his arm sweeping around her, gesturing the lack of security personnel guarding her person. "A lamb like you would walk into the Wolf's den and not expect to be eaten?"

So he knew. Her eyes widened with realisation. Xizor was aware of the great risks Leia was taking in attending the Gala. "The wolf has already dined, Xizor." _On my father and on the rebellion_. "Excessive blood let, would create an odour that would only discourage other lambs from entering a den when the wolf's belly is empty. Your wolf however is not smart."

He leaned in closely and whispered into her ear, "That is no guarantee Organa that you will leave this affair alive. Public complaints and political pressures from the Senate matter very little to Palpatine. If he wants you dead, he'll have his way."

Her voice strained. "The person you are speaking to is very much alive."

He raised an eyebrow. "Then I don't see her."

She inhaled sharply. "Your eyesight needs checking."

"No, you have already been marked Organa as the lamb for the slaughterhouse. You are a walking target. His gaze was confident and focused. "I think you know that yourself." He licked his lips. "Your position here is very vulnerable. " He continued to whisper delighting in her shuddering frame. "I heard that Palpatine declined a request to allow your personal Royal guard to accompany you here. In fact, I also heard that the Royal Alderaan Air Cruiser was not permitted to remain in the Imperial Hangar - you had to disembark and the vessel had thirty minutes exactly in which to steer out of the air space. Should anything happen to you..." The lilt of his voice dipped dangerously, "You are stranded here." He was not finished. "Your current reputation marred as it is by your father's rebel association mean that there are very few people at court willing to stick their necks out for you when you need help."

And did she know it. Needless to say, Lord Montieth was now nowhere to be seen. "I assure Xizor, I will not be requiring your help."

He smirked. "I know that already Organa; you got yourself into this predicament without any help from me. "But know this - when Palpatine has finally rid us all of the last Alderaan royal, I will be the first to claim your territory as mine."

"Dream on."

"Every night." He hissed.

She countered. "Palpatine won't allow it."

"I am in his favour. He might gift it to me." The Falleen said, stepped away from her and beamed at her fellow senators.

* * *

><p>Leia felt each splash of cold water slap her cheeks till they were red and raw. She backed away from the fresher unit, trembling hands searching frantically for a towel. Apply some makeup, an inner voice sternly advised and she could see the reasoning behind it. Her face was ashen, and her eyes wild like a child possessed. The thorough cleansing had washed every trace of collectedness, togetherness and sanity from her face and she was breaking own. Oh, the shame of it! She was breaking down in a refresher suite. Focus. Focus. The hand that raised itself to apply her eye liner kept slipping. The kohl pencil kept dropping and she had to keep picking it up off the floor. She clutched her head unsteadily, fighting recurrent waves of dizziness before they threatened to topple her. Breathe. Breathe, you've got to breathe. Fix your hair. There were too many stray strands. She might as well pull out the entire buns and start again from scratch. Sit down. You can't do this, Leia. You can't.<p>

"I can. I've got to." She snapped at her reflection. Her voice strained and cracked at the exertion.

"Lady Organa? Are you alright, my lady?"

That was her handmaiden, rapping on the door from the outside.

"Give me two minutes." She hollered, knowing it would take more than two minutes to overcome a sudden panic attack. "Oh my God!" She sunk to the floor, kneeling and cradling her head in her hands. You're as good as dead Leia. As good as dead.

She could not even remember half of what Xizor said or what she had said in response to him. But everything around her was unravelling, falling apart. When the rebellion falls, you'll fall with recalled her father's words as he begged her to come with him, with her mum and her two aunts and their gorgeous children.

_ "The rebels offer us shelter." Bail had said._

_ She could barely hear him over the roaring engine of the air cruiser. _

_ "Then take it, dad. But I need to stay here." She had gestured at the ground beneath her feet. "I can recruit more people and get funding." _

_ "Leia don't do this. Come with us!" He pleaded. _

_ Her voice cracked. "I can't!"_

_ Tears were gathering in his eyes. He brushed them away with the back of his hand._

_It broke her to say this. "I can't go into hiding with you when my place is right here." _

_ He warned, holding onto his robes against the billowing gusts. "Palpatine will come for you, darling. He knows about us."_

_ "I am the only thing that stands between him and Alderaan." _

_ "You don't have to be." He gave a watery smile, fiercely proud. "You're doing a very brave thing, Leia." "I only hope the sacrifice you are making is worth it." Lovingly, he stroked her cheek._

_Promptly, she kissed and hugged him, watching with a heavy heart as all the people she loved most in the world, climbed inside the air carrier that would take them to the Rebel base on Yavin. "Be safe." She had whispered into the wind that plundered her hair as the air craft took off into the black night. Leia had never felt more alone._

Leia gasped and spluttered, her head lolling back, and the taste of acrid vomit in her mouth threatening to overwhelm her completely. With her family gone, she had placed herself in the line of fire. The only royal who stood between Alderaan and the Emperor or rather Xizor and Alderaan. The Emperor suspected her involvement in the rebellion. What he did not know was how _fully_ she was involved in the efforts. She knew that her survival today depended on his mercy. She was a thorn in his side and a valuable asset to the Rebels. If he chose to kill her tonight, she was utterly powerless to escape. Her handmaidens had four blasters between them, which was hardly sufficient to fend off an attack in the night by storm troopers. Palpatine might use poison instead. Or a hired hit. A vision of a red haired woman in an elegant black ball gown came to mind. Leia was under no illusion of Palpatine's ward's true profession.

Xizor's words echoed in her mind: _"Public complaints and political pressures from the Senate matter very little to Palpatine. If he wants you dead, he'll have his way."_

Sometimes the truth was hard to swallow. "Why did I come here? I shouldn't have come here." Had common sense prevailed, she would have stayed at home, maintained a low profile, carried out a few interviews on the holonet reaffirming her total support for the Emperor and publically condemning the rebels. However, Leia was politically astute. Suspicions about her rebel-links would have only been confirmed if she had declined the invite for the gala. She had to attend and feign innocence, knowing full well the gala may be the very last event she would ever attend.

"Lady Organa?"

She jolted out of her panicked ramblings. "Yes, I'm coming."

She had to leave the confines of her refresher suite soon, lest the guests at the party notice her long disappearance. She had to maintain the facade. She had to erase all the cracks in it. Leia straightened up and tried to fix everything that was wrong with her reflection. Her movements were mechanical, her thoughts scattered, but she could not stay here long. Xizor would note her disappearance first, and then other imperial loyalists would follow suite and attack her verbally. The only coherent thought running through her mind was damage control. She had to keep up appearances or be torn to shreds.

Her fingers shakily managed to wrap themselves around the door, opening it. Winter was waiting for her, looking equally unsteady on her feet. "I thought you weren't going to come out."

"It's not like I have a choice." Leia stated. "

Winter nodded and Leia noticed how weary they both looked. They had spent running many hours with only adrenaline as a fuel and wondered how long they could both go on like this... living on the edge. "Where's Sasha?"

"She stands on the balcony. Rina waits in the lounge."

How they could still stand, Leia had no idea. She was mentally and physically exhausted. They were all exhausted being on non-stop guard duty for over 48 hours. Winter was surviving on three hours of fragmented sleep. Leia had entered another cycle of insomnia. Her body was barely functioning.

Their suite unlike those of other royal guests was isolated, tucked away in a far corner of the palace. She doubted whether there were any CCTV holo cams in the surrounding corridors, though she was aware her own suite would have been wired extensively. Sasha had found and dismantled three hidden spy cams in the lounge. The balcony overlooked a densely forested portion of the Palpatine's garden, ideal camouflage for snipers. It was decided there should always be one handmaiden on watch there at all times. Another stood guard by in the lounge by the door. Whenever Leia left the suite, two women would go with her leaving only one to remain in the room. One was hardly sufficient.

The three of them had been strip searched by storm troopers on arrival and despite the protest and pleas of Leia, almost all weaponry was confiscated. Her twenty strong Royal Guards were ordered to stand down and return to the air cruiser. A snide comment was made by the lead storm trooper on her doubts regarding the Emperor's sincere desire to protect his royal guests. She knew if given the opportunity, that storm trooper would fire his first shot at her.

She was escorted like a prisoner by an armed storm trooper escort to her and her handmaidens' suite. Palpatine had once again asserted his authority over all of them and highlighted that their lives were totally at his mercy. Leia had never felt so defenceless and vulnerable. Vulnerable...that had been Xizor's word. Her outside communication was severely restricted. She knew that if soldiers attacked her and her women in the suite, there would not be enough time to contact her royal guard (who were lodged in Coruscant city itself) and the line would hardly be secure. Their location would be traced and they would be found and finished off. It would be a bloodbath. A bloodbath disguised as something else when Palpatine's closest aides doctored their own version of events. which would then be broadcast on the holonet for all to hear.

She knew her own death at Palpatine's hands would also have some elaborate story tied to it. He had a flair for theatrics and he was patient. He would play with her mind until she tired and then he would take her down in one swoop.

Her rebel contacts in the Palace had met with her once and then not again. Their mysterious disappearances were hardly coincidental. Palpatine was keeping a close eye, monitoring her activities and that of those who communicated with her, eliminating them one by one. She shuddered. Leia had no idea how she was going to survive the night. It was equally hard surviving with no sleep. Her ability to think clearly was being affected, and her panic attacks were increasing in frequency and duration. Just survive tonight. It was her mantra.

She said. "We need to go back to the Great Hall." There were more people, more bystanders. It was more open. Surely Palpatine would not be so reckless to have her killed in the open...unless it was orchestrated in such a way, involvement on his part could be ruled out. That would make him an innocent bystander and he would have hundreds of witnesses. Leia reeled backwards, nausea blanketing her senses again.

Winter countered. "It's safer here."

Leia could see the logic. Storm troopers could easily raid the suite while she was at the Great Hall and lie wait in ambush for her return. "No." Leia said firmly. "I have to show my face and put on a show of strength." Xizor could see the cracks in her mask. She would be damned if others saw it too. "Come with me. Tell Sasha and Rina to stand guard here."

Winter scowled. "I can't protect you on my own."

Leia snapped. "I asked you to come with me and not mollycoddle me!"

The matter was closed. Winter huffed but did as asked, aware that if she refused Leia, the request would be rephrased as an order. "Are you ready?" Winter asked.

"Yes." Came the answer. "I am ready."

That was when they heard the sound of a single gunshot from the balcony. All the blood drained from Leia's face. "Oh my god..."

"Sasha..."

The women sprinted from the refresher, through the bedroom dodging furniture, and onto the balcony. Winter got there first. Before she had even opened the glass doors she could see the slumped figure on the ground, an arm outstretched, blood oozing from a wound above her ear. A head shot. Sasha had been killed instantly and in cold blood. Winter swayed on her feet, as her eyes roved over Sasha's blood matted hair. The killer was probably still outside, waiting. She closed the curtains, turning to face Leia.

"She's dead?"

Winter tried nodding, but could push nothing back the constricting lump in her throat.

"Is the killer waiting for us outside?" Leia asked.

"Y..yes. I think he is."

"Where is Rina?" Leia crouched down low with Winter away from the glass. Alarm bells began to ring like crazy inside her head.

"In the lounge."

"Rina should have heard the shot."

"I..." Hit by a wave of cold realisation, Winter stood.

"Take this." Leia handed her her own blaster.

She took it.

Winter motioned for Leia to remain in the bedroom and she walked over to the door into the lounge. Seconds passed. Leia's heart was hammering inside her chest. Sasha was gone. Sasha was gone. Behind the thick curtain, Sasha body would be lying crumpled and broken and bleeding. _You should have come here on your own. You knew this would happen. __You walked into a wolf den knowing you might not come back out. You didn't have to take her down with you. This is your fault._

The silence was unnerving. Her breathing became more shallow and rapid. She had barely recovered from one panic attack and now was not the time to fall into another. Control yourself! She crumbled to the floor. Her head lolled back and smacked the bed frame repeatedly. Her vision was clouding. Her eyes were open and yet all she could see was grey. .No. this was worse than before. Her heart was beating into overdrive. She felt her loose and detached limbs slide as the floor sprang up to catch them. Hearing is always the last sense to go. A medic had told her that but why then were her ears ringing, vibrating like comm links. She could barely hear the shouts and screams and shots over them. Leia fell. Her eyes rolled twice in their sockets before the lids closed over them. Her breathing slowed and then stopped. Her mouth was still open, frothing.

* * *

><p>Winter gasped for breath, her lungs collapsing with each effort that lifted her torso off the ground. The bullet was lodged firmly in her rib cage. Her hand fumbled with the buttons of a shirt that was soaking slowly with blood. Pneumothorax - the collection of air in the pleural cavity, putting pressure on the lungs and preventing complete expansion. She would not survive this. The half man-half machine watched her from above through a black conical mask. Her eyes blinked, watering from the flashing green and yellow lights on its chest panel. The laboured breathing noises she realised were not her own. Between rapidly fluttering eyelashes and drifting in a semiconscious state, she noticed the figure make a gesture with a black gloved hand that closed into a fist. She felt the air rush out her windpipe. Her lifeless head hit the ground a moment later. Winter was no more.<p>

"There are two other dead women in the suite." A soldier confirmed as he exited the main bedroom, closing the door behind him. "One is on the balcony and the other by the French doors. I've dragged both the bodies into the bedroom."

The storm troopers waited for instructions.

"Burn the rooms." The cyborg growled.

His orders were followed. Multiple fires were set immediately on the upholstery in the lounge and a trail of oil-drenched clothing was laid on the floor to allow the gradual spread into the bedrooms.

"Give the signal."

Another storm trooper coughed orders down a comm link, instructing the fire alarms to ring in precisely eight minutes. A second unit of storm troopers on stand-by with hose pipes, and fire extinguishers, were then informed of the progress of events. It would take twelve minutes for Unit 2 to arrive on the scene, allowing the first unit time to slip away quietly. The planning was meticulous. The execution was faultless. Their role was now over. The first unit promptly left the suite, several muffling their smoke-induced-coughs. The cyborg chose to remain, watching unperturbed as the flames licked, ravaged and torched the corpse of the woman before him, ensuring that all evidence was destroyed.

The telepathic message arrived twenty minutes later. "It is done, Master."

Palpatine nodded. _Finally_.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Confidential Ubiqtorate Memo : <span>**

RE: Statement for Live Holo Press conference at 8.20am Coruscant Holo - Radio

1) Confirm that all the victims of the fire were women of foreign descent. The women were guests at the Imperial Gala.

2) Confirm the deaths are not being treated as suspicious and inform the journalists that an investigation is already underway to ascertain the cause. Stress that the cause of death for all women was natural.

3) Inform the journalists that the identities of victims are not being released until "families have been informed"** [i.e: until all 4 bodies have been located.]**

_ Armand Issard_

_P.S: Security arrangments need to be finalised for the Emperor's public address, regarding the Gala's success. Reply ASAP._


	5. The Last Defining Moments

**A/N: Sorry for the long delays in updating this fic. I really had been neglecting Halo of Fire. Thank you to all readers and reviewers especially. Please review my work. It means a lot to me. This chapter was hard writing and i do want to hear what you make of my efforts, night-violet.**

* * *

><p><strong>Practice Halls - Early hours of the morning<strong>

Mara flung her light sabre at the practice droid – the last one standing, cutting a low arc, slicing through the air where its knees had been. The momentum carried her further than she had intended. She staggered sideways, her entire right flank now exposed to her opponent. _Get up! Get up now!_ She stumbled, falling awkwardly on one knee, aware of the forceful command in her head that sounded too familiar. The droid advanced clumsily. Its blaring red eyes betrayed no sign of emotion, elation of victory, no sign of tiring. She tried to catch a breath, her lungs collapsing with each exertion. Not enough air was entering. Her head was throbbing. Sweat that had drenched her collar and back of threadbare jumpsuit were cooling, plasting to her skin, slowing her. Her limbs felt heavy as if she was wading through mud neck-height. The effect of the wine, no doubt." She reasoned. Her movements were always quick, clipped and precise. Today they were sluggish. Her muscles ached, protesting from the workout. She had only been practising for ...Mara glanced at her chrono, just over one hour! This was unacceptable, unlike of her. Where was her stamina? "The wine. I shouldn't have drunk the wine." The throbbing in her head resumed.

She was not refeering to the champagne she drank with Skywalker. "No." The two glasses of finest Alderaani Red after her brief audience with her master. She could still picture the two glass flutes in her mind. They looked as appealing as ever. She had left the meeting with Palpatine over 2 and a half hours ago, nerves raw, skin crawling and hypersensitive to her environment. The relentless whirring of her mind and prickling senses was unmanageable. She could not cope with insomnia. One or two days was manageable, but not three or four. She had downed the wine like water for the parched. Its drugging promise lulled her muscles to a state of looseness, her gaze rolled and unfocused. For someone who had to be sharp and attentive every minute of every day, the experience was a sweet release. It had not lasted. Her sleep had been disturbed, fitful and strewn with nightmares. Her nightmares had driven her running to the practice hall, light sabre in hand.

The practice droid lifted its humming sabre above her outstretched neck. She could feel the heat, searing her scalp through the thick untamed mass of red gold hair. Milliseconds in real time felt like long minutes. Her grip on her light sabre had slackened and it rolled away smoothly.

"Deactivate."

The droid froze in its position.

Mara dropped, curling into a ball on the floor. She hugged her knees to her chest, and rested her throbbing head against the cold ground.

Her comm bleeped on her utility belt.

"Jade?" The unmistakable voice crackled on the other end.

"Yes?" She straightened immediately, brushing the dirt of her jumpsuit as she got to her feet.

"Open the door."

* * *

><p>Isaard's arrival was a surprise to the say the least. The Ubiqtorate official had frog marched in as soon as Mara had lifted the wards blocking access. "I need a second opinion." He said without preamble.<p>

_"You want a what?"_ Mara's legs felt like soda straws. "What the hell for? It's three in the morning."

His gaze swept across her sweat-dampened form, taking in the light sabre, the practice droid, the cracked remains of several other practice droids. "I understand that you are still awake Jade."

She bristled at his tone. "I am not one of your lackeys to order around, no matter the time of day." Mara said in her best you're-talking-to-the -Emperor's-Hand-fool voice.

His closemouthed smile was pretty meaningless. "Jade, I would consider it a personal favour."

"Well what do you pay your _personnel_ for if you need me for a second opinion?"

He pursed his lips. "This will interest you a great deal if you care to listen."

"Really?" She snorted, as she bent to retrieve her light sabre and clipping it to her utility belt. "Well, start talking and I'll tell you when I've stopped listening." She knew from experience how persistent Isaard could be and she had no time for his game of patience. She might as well hear what his all-knowing, all-seeing spymaster had to say. Her hands settled on her hips. "Come on, Isaard, start talking." She kicked the droid frozen in its berserker axe-wielding stance. It clattered to the floor noisily, every strip of metal and wire making contact with the ground. Mara felt perversely satisfied on hearing the clang.

"The Bainbridge suite in the west wing was set fire to earlier this morning. Four women died."

Mara should have cared but seriously she had her own problems to worry over. "And I look like a homicide detective to you?"

"Organa and her handmaidens."

Mara pulled up short. "Leia Organa?" She closed her gaping mouth with a snap and tried for cool detached professionalism.

Well...Mara never liked that woman anyway. She did however sympathise with Isaard. A foreign diplomat - actually, a queen, dead at an Imperial organised event was messy business. She could only imagine the number of emergency meetings, Isaard had to organise with Internal Security, Foreign Affairs office, Palace security and then those blasted press conferences for the holo journalists. How would one explain the death of an Alderaani queen at the Imperial gala – even if she was a last minute stand in for her father? The mountain of paperwork this sort of event generated was phenomenal. The Ewoks could build another planet.

"So it was arson?" She asked.

"Yes." He confirmed.

"You can't claim the fire was accidental?"

"No."

_ That would have been too easy._ "Do you have any idea who started the fire?" Mara tried wracking her brains for anything useful. "Starkiller told me she exchanged a few words with the black sun leader after her flowery and flattering speech to the Emperor." Who had not even there to hear it, Mara remembered! Starkiller was Vader's _Hand_ as it were. Vader's Force-_strong_ Hand and boy did Starkiller love to rub salt into Mara's festering _minimal-force_ wounds. Mara realised she was going off-topic. "Who apart from the rebels would want to incinerate the Palace on the Emperor's coronation anniversary?"

"The target was specifically Organa." He pointed to the flaws in her logic.

Everyone who was anyone in Imperial Intel (and especially Ubiqtorate) knew about Bail Organa's liaisons with the Rebel Alliance. Though Leia Organa herself had not been explicitly implicated (through substantial lack of incriminating evidence), one would assume she was more discrete about her associations. Organa knew how to cover her tracks. Mara was ready to bet her black dress that the queen was actively involved in coordinating Rebel activities more so now in her father's absence. She remembered on the holonet how Organa had been as meek and compliant as a lamb during press interviews. She did not have much choice, did she? Outward appearances and allegiances to the Emperor had to be maintained and exaggerated when under the spotlight. It would not make sense for the Rebels to target their queen. Xizor on the other hand had much to gain from Organa's demise.

Isaard had remained unnaturally silent watching Mara throw around ideas in her head. When he finally spoke, the words dropped like a bomb. "Leia Organa was killed by Vader's storm troopers."

It took Mara a few seconds to process this. She had to close her mouth a second time. "Why am I not surprised?" She said eventually, putting her hands on her hips.

"You did not look surprised." He said sarcastically.

She turned on him like a hound. "The arson was planned. Did _you_ know about it?"

"I knew Leia Organa's end was near, last week in fact."

Mara raised her eyebrows at the news. "You found evidence." Realisation hit her. "You didn't think to inform me!"

He deadpanned. "You left the Ubiqtorate three years ago."

Mara's eyes narrowed. She huffed. "Did _you_ organise the assassination?" She stressed the word assassination knowing it carried more weight as an accusation than arson ever did.

He snapped. "It would have been planned better if I had organised it."

"Why?"

He let out an exasperated breath. "The storm troopers lost Organa's body."

Judging from Mara's truly jaw-dropping expression, Isaard could see that Jade understood the full gravity of the situation.

* * *

><p>They power walked, with Isaard whipping out his access card at several checkpoints in various corridors and lift shafts.<p>

"So tell me." Mara asked. "When is Vader's meeting with the Emperor?" The robotic life support unit on legs was going to be fried like an omelette.

"One standard hour from now."

Mara nodded, smothering a grin. "Enjoy the show. I imagine there will be a fireworks display at the end."

The corner of Isaard's mouth lifted in a half smile. He said very businesslike. "We're going to Organa's suite now."

"I guessed."

He had already told her the storm troopers' version of events and the outline of the original plan. There had been minor deviations but how they had managed to lose the body was an enigma .

"In here." Isaard opened the door to the suite, holding it open for Mara. Inside was a scene of devastation. Mara picked her way through the 'rubble'. The carpet was covered in ash, tiles and glass shards. The walls were charred black with smoke. The furniture was barely intact. Chalk marking the sites and position of the four bodies had been carefully drawn.

"I'm surprised the storm troopers managed to contain the fire." She kicked the steel frame of the coffee table. "It could easily have spread along the corridor." The corridor itself was cordoned off with plenty of yellow tap, and loitering storm troopers stationed to direct any curious guests away from the crime scene. The facade of an official imperial investigation had to be kept. "So to summarise: Vader's unit stormed into the suite, peppered all 4 women with bullets, dragged the bodies into the bedroom, set fire to the living room and ensured the fire spread and engulfed the suite. "It's not the most original plan."

"But it is simple to execute - exactly Vader's style." He countered. Isaard pulled out a datapad and began flicking through holo images looking for anything relevant. "These were taken before the fire was started."

Mara stared at holos of the four women but Organa's corpse was the most interesting. Mara took the datapad from him. Leia Organa was half-propped against the glass of the French doors like a ragdoll. Curiously enough, her eyes were semi-open in the holo, her pupils the size of dinner plates. Unusually enough, her mouth was frothing. A trickle of blood had made its way out of her left nostril.

"Vader's men found Organa dead and in _such_ manner." Isaard tapped the screen to bring up the next image. "Her handmaiden Sasha was also found dead on the balcony."

The holo of Sasha's corpse were in keeping with what a typical corpse would look like, for that situation. The bodyguard's brains had literally been blown out of a hole in her skull and the image of her lying face down in a pool of blood was graphic enough for Mara's stomach to roil at the sight. "What about the other two handmaidens?"

"Both were shot dead in the lounge by Vader's troopers."

Mara nodded thoughtfully. She looked at back at Organa's holo. Something did not look right. "Organa's body looks pretty wholesome. No sign of injury, no bleeding, she doesn't look like she's been shot." _At all. _Mara frowned. "She is dead in this photo?"

"Very much so." Isaard commented. "Notice how three handmaidens die very violent gruesome deaths in two different locations and Organa's body located midway between them looks like a suicide."

"She must have been expecting the storm troopers." Mara concluded. She tapped the screen to bring back Organa's photo and frowned. "Zoom in." She told Isaard. He did so without hesitation. "Scroll down." Mara instructed. "Keep going...keep going...stop!" He had overshot it slightly, and Mara impatiently moved the image up.

"What is it?"

They scrutinised the section of the image, of Organa's outstretched leg, adjoining hip, half covered by the floaty sleeve of her left arm. Isaard muttered. "She was a wearing a brown belt during her speech in the great Hall."

Mara pointed at a teasing glimpse of _something_ on Organa's hip. "**That**, whatever it is, is black and it's not her belt. It was not on her belt in the great Hall. Could it be a comm-link?"

"She was stripped of all communicative devices when the Alderaani craft landed yesterday."

Mara scowled. "This is Organa we're talking about. She would never leave herself defenceless."

"Yes I agree, but it is not necessarily a..."

She interrupted him speedily. "I mean, what else could it be?" She froze. "Isaard? Is that...it could be a blaster halter."

Both of them straightened immediately. Isaard angled the datapad towards him and looked closely at the image. She could practically hear his thoughts churning. "If that's an empty blaster halter, where is the blaster?"

Good question. Isaard brought up the image after next. "Winter Celchu died holding two blasters, one of them must be her own and the other one belonging to Organa. Both blasters look identical so there's no saying whether Celchu had two originally or if one..."

Mara cut in speedily, not able to listen to anymore. "So let's imagine Organa gives her blaster to Winter Celchu to buy herself more time for the poison to act? In that way, she would be dead before Vader had the chance to force chokes her." She tapped the screen twice; recoiling at the dilated state of the Alderaani queen's pupils and frothing around her mouth. It looked unnatural, diseased, and abnormal. "This is poison." Mara said, ready to retch the longer she stared at the image.

"They were strip-searched." Isaard said flatly and anticipating Mara's next question, he added. "Poison would have been found on their person. They were probably allowed to keep the blasters – although palace security should have documented that more clearly."

"Leia Organa was not epileptic." Mara said with certainty. "This looks like poison!" She rapped the screen hard with a flicking motion of her wrist, earning a glare from the Ubiqtorate official.

"Poison seems most logical."Isaard concurred, paying Mara decent lip service but she could sense he was not convinced. "Why would she pass her blaster over to Celchu to then poison herself if her intent was to commit suicide? Wouldn't it be a lot quicker for Organa to shoot herself with her blaster?" Isaard explained. "She was obviously expecting Vader's attack or an attack of some form. She was ready to die. If she wanted to die at her own hand, she would have to commit the act the quickly."

He brought up a 3 dimensional spacial holo of Organa's suite marking the exacting position of her bodyguards bodies within the wall of the suite marked in green. Isaard manoeuvred his way through the holo, pausing at every red cross. There were two red crosses in the living room, one in the centre by the main door, the other by the adjoining door to the bedroom and the third red cross on the balcony and Organa's cross was cushioned protectively between the three. "She had only had three body guards but they had all the possible entry points covered, so to speak."

"They must have all known they were going to die with her." It came from Mara unbidden. She could sympathise with them in a way...after all who was she, the Emperor's hand - a glorified body guard ready to lay down her life for his Eminence.

Isaard raised an eyebrow. "Getting overly emotional, are we Jade?"

She deadpanned. "Isaard you have the emotional capacity as one of my practice droids. All of them are in need of repairs." She left off strongly, hinting at what would be his fate if he pushed her too far.

"All bar one." He reminded. "The one you deactivated, Mara."

She bit the inside of her cheek, to stop expletives spilling. Concentrate on the case! Mara fumed internally and her hands balled into fists. She kicked at the lamp stand. "So to summarise, Organa planned to poison herself. Organa can't have known what time Vader was coming to her suite, but she was expecting him and she waited for him. The bodyguards position themselves as shown by the crosses and they wait." She tapped the 3d special holo. "Vader finally enters, the bodyguards signal to Organa and she takes the pill/ poison/ toxin and dies, and the three bodyguards fire blindly until ...they die too."

He wore the scowl that translated into words akin to 'haven't you heard anything I said?' However he was too proper to accost her with such familiarity so Isaard pulled her entire logic apart with one force wielding question. "Tell me what natural poison you know can act in seconds or milliseconds?"

And as expected, Mara was stumped.

He continued, "Organa was not dying when the storm troopers found her. She was already _dead_," he added, stroking his chin. "You are right in that there was no way she could have known exactly when Vader was coming for her." With that Isaard had blown the poison theory out of the water and now they were both left with nothing. He had however that smug smile from proving her totally brainless.

It still didn't seem right. Something nagged Mara. "I despise the woman BUT." Mara grudgingly admitted, "She...she doesn't seem the type to kill herself full-stop. We are trying to work out how she killed herself because she was not shot but Organa always struck me as the type the woman to go out all guns blazing." Mara stated absolutely. Take that Isaard! She felt very intelligent poking holes in the suicide theory that he had thought of first.

Isaard agreed, albeit reluctantly. "She does not have the character profile of a suicide victim. Indeed there is no family history of suicide."

Mara perked up. She had never thought that as being relevant. _**So how did Leia Organa die?**_ It was the most blaringly obvious question and yet she felt they were still no closer to finding an answer. Indeed Organa's body was no longer in their possession so a post mortem was out of the question. Mara felt like she was staring at the surface of a lake, only able to see her own reflection and not past the water's surface to gauge its true depths.

Organa's loose limbs, tangled in flimsy virginal white and that spectral haunting stare from beneath half mast lids jumped to Mara's mind's eye. "Are you sure she was even dead when the storm troopers found her?" She felt like throwing his blasted datapad. "Can you **try** to explain a cause of death from this holo that fits?"

"She was dead, Jade!" Isaard said in an uncharacteristically raised voice, half wondering why he had gone to such lengths to bring the Emperor's Hand here.

She asked furiously. "How do you know?"

"Two medical examiners accompanied the storm troopers into the suite and confirmed the deaths of each and every woman before the suite was set fire to." He explained. Before you ask, they have over thirty eight years of experience between them and are highly regarded physicians!" He defended. "Organa was not breathing. She had no pulse. Her pupillary, corneal and all other motor reflexes were absent. Her skin was cold. They even poured cold water in her ears! Jade, you of all people should know when someone is dead!"

She replied spontaneously, with the backing of years of field experience. "It's different with Jedi. They can fake..."Her blood ran cold. "Oh Kriff."

"No." He realised instantly what she was thinking. "There is **no** way she could have done that."

"You don't know. Leia Organa was Kenobi's padawan." It was all coming back to her. Frightenly so, the unconnected dots were starting to join at a truly alarming rate.

Isaard snapped. "Her tutelage under him was discontinued at the request of her parents. She was fourteen at the time. There is no way her skill in the force are that advanced!" He turned on Mara sharply. "Are you suggesting that Leia Organa could be walking around the palace right now?"

Force no. Mara shook herself once, twice and tried to focus her rampaging scattered mind on something concrete. Mara stepped over the threshold into the bedroom, a hanky clamped over her nose and mouth. Twelve metres away from her were the French doors leading to the balcony – the spot where Organa fell. The dead girl on the balcony was another mystery. "Tell me about Sasha." Sasha's death was cold case number 2 and Mara figured that the key to solving Organa's corpse's disappearance was somehow connected to Sasha.

"She was found dead on the balcony."

Mara snapped. "I know that!"

He said, seemingly unruffled. "None of the storm troopers admitted to killing her in any of the statements they made. In fact, forensics who examined her body came to conclusion that she was the first of the three handmaidens to die."

"Forensics?" Mara raised a brow.

Isaard huffed. "Forensics examined the three corpses once they had been pulled from the wreckage of the fire."

"And Organa's body was present before the fire and then goes missing during the fire!" She muttered under her breath. "If she was going to go walking around the palace, the fire would have provided a perfect cover for her escape!"

Isaard looked at her darkly.

Mara found she had more questions of her own. "How on Earth did Sasha die if the storm troopers did not shoot her?"

Again the graphic holo of the young female face-planted in a pool of red emerged on his data pad and Mara felt a wave of nausea. He read off the details dispassionately. "Bullet wound, radius 4.8 centimetres, fired at point blank range, into the pterion of her skull. Hemorrhage of the middle cerebral artery, dead in seconds." The pterion was the weakest point in the skull, the site where three prominent skull bones fused and directly behind it lay the largest artery supplying the brain. If it was suicide, it was either a very calculated shot by Sasha into the right pterion.

"What are you studying so intently, Jade?"

She tapped at Sasha's outstretched right hand and the silver chrono on her wrist. "Which hand do you wear your chrono on?"

Isaard looked taken aback, unconsciously rubbing his left wrist wrist. "My left hand, naturally."

"Same." Mara said. "Why do we do that?"

"It is more comfortable and common to wear a chrono on the non-dominant hand." He answered.

She pointed at the holo. "Sasha is left handed. You can see her chrono on her right wrist."

She scrolled down the holo-image. "Her blaster halter is placed on her left half of her utility belt which again confirms Sasha's dominant side –her left."

Isaard nodded, with dawning realisation. "The hole in her skull is on her right side."

"Exactly! Sasha is left handed." Mara tried to mimic the action Sasha would have had to take if she had shot herself in the right pterion with her left blaster hand. "It's not easy or convenient to make the shot and it wouldn't have come naturally to her. The bullet would have had entered the skull at an angle, which it didn't! My final conclusion is that Sasha didn't pull the trigger on the shot that killed her. Someone else did. " Mara stated. "It wasn't an act of compassion by Organa's hand. The bullets in the blasters Organa and her handmaidens used were much smaller." She inhaled sharply. "The diameter of the wound, for the gun that was fired at that range...it **should** be one of our own."

"_Vader's men found her dead_." Isaard grated. "Why would they provide misinformation? Why would any of our troopers deny her killing?"

"Maybe it happened too quickly for them to remember!"

"Nonsense, Jade!" He snapped.

"There's no other explanation!" She tried reasoning.

He was having none of it. "_That_ doesn't automatically lend this _explanation_ any credibility! And besides," He countered. "Forensics believed that Sasha was the first to die. If your theory is correct, she must have been the very last person to die! The storm troopers would have moved through the room and arrived at the balcony last."

"There were seconds or a minute at most between all four deaths! How can forensics possibly differentiate between the times? I mean none of the bodies had even entered the rigor mortis phase! So how can anyone say for definite who was killed first?" She snarled. Mara as a rule trusted her own judgement and common sense above crackpot science and technology boffins.

She held up three fingers. "Think about it! Sasha death was either done at her own hand, Organa's hand or a storm trooper's hand! We have ruled out the first two."

He shook his head. He turned away.

Prick! Mara growled and took to pacing.

Something was off about this. It was so blatantly wrong and Mara just could not point where the fault line was. She turned slowly on her heel, hands braced on hips. "Show me the images of Rina and Winter Celchu." Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw the holos. Her stomach roiled. They had been smattered with dozens of bullets. It takes one bullet to kill. There were more holes in their mutilated frames than pieces. The platinum blonde one's jaw had been separated from her skull, her tongue was a useless flap now lying alongside her left ear. Mara could bet her life savings that 95% of the damage was created after the two women were dead as precautionary checks/ confirmations of the kill. It was a regular and reliable practice used by storm troopers. It verified the hit.

Isaard brought up the images of Organa and then, cottoning onto Mara's train of thought. Sasha had only the head wound which killed her and Organa...well Organa had no visible wound at all.

Mara tried to put herself in the mind of a storm trooper that night. Half would have secured the lounge and taken care of the two women there, the other half of the squad would have entered – no, charged into the bedrooms, followed hotly by the first group. They would have fired at the first thing they saw, regardless of whether the target was alive or dead or inanimate. Why then? Why did they not spray the room and its occupants with bullets? They had a shoot first and ask questions later policy which was strictly adhered to in normal circumstances. This was not normal. It did not make sense for them to charge in the room, spot Organa huddled in the corner like a street urchin and decide they wanted to take her pulse and check her motor reflexes. Their intent had been to kill in cold blood.

There were no tell-tale bullet holes in the walls. In stark contrast, the walls were barely held together in the living room. Organa and Sasha had no other wounds. Something or someone had stopped the storm troopers from firing, and in doing so changed a reflexive and intrinsically hard-wired action. Mara glanced over at the position where Organa 'died.' Whenever Jedi were involved, the first rule was to expect the unexpected. If Organa could play dead, Mara was sure she knew a few other Jedi mind tricks like mental manipulation.

"I know what you are thinking." Isaard rudely interrupted her thoughts.

Mara said defensively. "Leia Organa was a Jedi, and she was perfectly capable!"

"She was a padawan who never completed her training."

She snapped. "Maybe that's what she would like us to think!"

He lapsed into stone silence, his jaw set in a brutally stubborn line. Mara was past care. She focused on the details of the case: two women in the lounge were killed by storm troopers, and the two deaths in the bedroom/ balcony were just unexplainable. Mara paced back and forth, praying for the first time in a long time for some inspiration. The thought of a newly resurrected Organa, breezing through palace like a guardian angel was truly frightening. She would easily prefer to grit her teeth and deal with Skywalker's daily unexplainable happiness. She walked back towards the bathroom door, away from the French doors and stopped in her tracks.

"What is it?"

Her breath rushed out of her, carrying words with it. "Isaard, I installed 5 cameras in this suite last week. Organa's handmaidens dismantled three of them. I thought the other two were destroyed in the fire." She pointed ahead of her above the bathroom door. "That one is still intact."

* * *

><p>"Calm yourself Jade."<p>

She could have put a fist through his face for that. Her fingers were trembling and she was giddy with anticipation. He took the device from her when it became clear she could not keep her hands still. It nearly fell apart in his hands but the film had been mercifully spared. Fifteen minutes later, they replayed the infrared holo film. It was an infrared holo movie lasting 56 hours. Mara swore, waiting for it to fast forward to the right place. As expected there was no colour on the screen, but there was no sound either. _Organa emerged rather distraughtly, presumably from the fresher, entering the camera field. She conversed briefly with Celchu, mouths moving too quickly for Mara to read them. Celchu looked highly irritated and then in response to something Organa said, she freaked, prompting Organa to bellow, eliciting some form of compliance from the bodyguard. Mara could see Sasha a faint rectangular white figure through the French doors, and totally out of focus. It was the exact moment when Sasha crumpled to the floor. _

** Mara gasped. Theory number one was discredited. There was a smirk on Isaard's face.**

_ Winter Celchu bolted to the French doors, followed by Organa. _

**This was it. These were the last moments. The last moments of a person have a funny way of defining the individual. Mara drew up short**_...Celchu closed the curtains fully and nodded at her mistress as if confirm the Sasha's passing. She pulled Organa low into a crouch by the bed. Organa withdrew something from her belt and handed it to Winter. _

**Mara could feel her heart knocking like an unwanted guest on her ribs. The blaster! One aspect of her theory had been confirmed. The score was now one all between her and Isaard. **

_Leia Organa was clutching her head, almost rocking back and forth on her heels, trying to override the spasticity of her limbs. She looked like the undead. _

"_**Pull out the poison." Mara heard herself say. "Show me something."**_

_Organa's body convulsed. Her head smacked the bed frame twice. Mara had to wince. The tickle of blood crept out from her nostril to join the froth around her mouth. Damn! It looked like epilepsy, or heart attack – not that Mara was a medic. It was not a suicide. Organa had just collapsed. There was no look of intent in the woman's' eyes, only mad panic in her last moments as consciousness slid out of her grip. She had died like a rabid dog. If she had been trying to fake her death, she would have at least collected herself in preparation for the deed. The look in her eyes said it all before they rolled and became motionless - It was too late. The end was inescapable._

**Neither of them won that point.**_**Isaard for once in his life looked totally clueless.**_

_The door was then wrenched open a moment later and a storm trooper emerged into view, blaster ready and aimed. Organa was already dead. Winter and Rina were presumably dead. The holo flickered on the screen and then the screen went blank._

"No!" Mara scrabbled for the camera and shaking it. There was no reason for the film to end at that point. Isaard wrenched it out of her grasp and began to examine it carefully.

"Give it here!" Mara said with desperation.

"Well, are your questions answered?" He said gruffly.

Not to her satisfaction.

She snatched it from him, partly because he let her and rewound the final few minutes of the film and watched them twice over, looking for anything, just about anything. She wanted to cry. She actually wanted to cry and beat her fists on the ground till her knuckles bled.

The silence stretched between them for many long minutes as she tried to tinker with the holovid. Isaard watched her. He sighed. "A meeting has been scheduled with the emperor this morning at 5 am. I have to present my findings and I haven't found much."

She got to the end of the film and started tweaking the various buttons of the camera in blind hope. For four minutes, she ignored him. She said eventually."I didn't hear about this meeting."

"Your attendance is not needed Jade." Attendance could have easily been replaced with existence. There was a tired twinkle in his eyes that she looked up and caught. It prompted a spontaneous half smile which he was almost glad to see. She could see he was ready to give up and she was on the verge of doing the same, realising how she was searching for water in a dried up stream.

"Well fortunately for the Emperor, Organa is dead. Unfortunately for us, we have no way of knowing how she died or who took her body or where it is now. The rational fear is that if the body falls into rebel hands, they will make her a martyr for their cause."

Mara understood, watching the film a third time passively.

"Organa will be greater in death than she ever was in life."

Her finger rammed the pause button on the clip. She could not believe it. How had she missed it? The glaring anomaly had been staring at her the whole time, probably jumping up and down shouting "_look at me_!" She had focused all the while on the bottom left of the screen where the first storm trooper came into view. What was happening in the top left was infinitely more interesting. She handed him the camera. "You have to see this!" She replayed the last three seconds from when the storm trooper entered, tapping the top left of the screen.

His brows furrowed.

He was thinking along the same lines. "How did we miss this?"

The expression on her face was of pure glee. "I don't know." because the film showed that the storm trooper was not the only one to enter the room at that moment in time. How did she know that? IN the dying seconds of the holovid, the curtains to the balcony shifted, moving with a light breeze. That could only happen if the French doors were ajar. Sasha could not have opened the French doors. She was dead and they had her body to prove it. It must have been her killer. Mara had assumed the killer had been a storm trooper who had accessed the balcony from the bedroom. She knew without a shadow of doubt that the real killer had done the exact reverse of that. And he or she was in the holovid, standing behind the curtains, five steps in line with Organa's still form.

* * *

><p>The question was who? There was an unidentified subject in the room, with Organa and the first storm trooper to enter. Her mind raced, arriving at the next conclusion. Sasha's killer could not have been a storm trooper. The tell-tale flicker of the image at the dying second of the frame told everything Mara needed to know. The flicker was not a fault of the film, but a searing heat shadow strong enough to deactivate the camera and stop the film. Heat shadows often indicated a potent use of the force. The word hung thick like smoke in the air. Jedi.<p>

"Organa could actually be alive then." Isaard stated breaking the second void of silence. "The unidentified subject was obviously gifted in the force. Organa's collapse is medically unexplainable otherwise."

"Yes." Mara's happiness was short lived.

He palmed his forehead. "The Jedi shot Sasha because..."

"He was coming to rescue Organa and she was not expecting him. He may have fired Sasha in self defence. Sasha could have easily mistaken him for a storm trooper in the darkness." Mara felt like the bottom had dropped out her world. She said deflated. "He must have been in the room the whole time, mentally manipulating the storm troopers and stopping them from shooting, concealed his presence on the camera and other force users, and then pulled Organa out."

"Why do you keep saying him?"

Mara faltered. "Isn't it obvious?"

He crinkled his brow, clearly wanting an explanation.

"It has to be Obi won Kenobi."

Bad had just gone to catastrophically worse.

They had been arguing all the way to the throne room, going through all the names of the jedi they knew and crossing off each one. Mara refused to cross off Kenobi but Isaard was adamant that all contenders should be analysed for potential. At no point had Mara and Isaard seen the unidentified subject on the holofilm. They could not discount the possibility of there being more than one Jedi involved.

"I need you to check if there have been any unauthorised take-offs in the hangar in the last four hours. I need a list of all the incoming and exiting traffic from the palace in the last twenty four hours in case the jedi decide to stow away." Isaard bit out orders between clenched teeth, walking at a furious pace that Mara had to jog to keep up with. "None of the guests of the Ball are to leave. Suites will need to be searched. Inform Palace Security. We need storm troopers on every floor and a heavy presence in the hangar bays. Declare an emergency state to the Ubiqtorate. I want the Palace in total lock-down."

Mara pushed strands out of her eyes, as she struggled to match his pace. He was talking so fast. She needed to write all these instructions down. "What if they've already left?"

"We have star destroyers in every system Jade. We must intercept them before the Jedi reach the outer rim. Contact General Veers. His fleet is currently doing an outer perimeter of the core planets. Everyone should be on high alert. I want you put these measures in place immediately jade. I will not have any time wasted and give Kenobi a chance to run while I am in conference with the Emperor."

"Agreed." Mara said breathlessly.

He made a fist with his free hand. "In my opinion, the Jedi are still within the palace." Mara muttered to herself. "They must have inside help."

The grim look in Isaard's eyes told her everything. "Yes. They must do. Send a squad of storm troopers into Coruscant, to the lodgings of Organa's Alderaani Security. The time for discretion is over."

They both stood outside the door to the throne room where they had ushered Skywalker into. "Vader will be in conference with the Emperor and I. His apprentice, Starkiller is however gifted in the Force."

Mara felt resentment churning in her gut, realising to the next instruction being alluded to.

"He will be most useful to track and neutralise the Jedi."

She said acidly. "I'm sure he will."

"Inform him of the situation and take him with you, Jedi Hunter."

Mara nodded stiffly at her other official title. "I don't think it's necessary."

He cut her off. "The situation is critical. We need to utilise all the resources available to us."

A lump was growing in her throat and when she spoke her voice sounded oddly cracked. "I am a good enough resource. I don't have the time to babysit..."

He said in a final tone. "It's an order, Jade."

"I will inform Starkiller of the situation and take him with me." She repeated stonily. _But I never promised when._

The door to the throne room opened. A starch-collared, stiff lipped Ubiqtorate emerged and saluted Isaard. "The Emperor will see you now."

Isaard curtly dismissed Mara with a perfunctory nod and stepped in.

* * *

><p><strong>One hour later.<strong>

Starkiller staggered towards the hyperbaric chamber in Vader's quarters, with charred heavy weight of his master in his arms. He was conscious of how Vader's feet were dragging on the ground, and how the crushing grip he had around his master's life support unit. He focused one each and every step and panting from the exertion. Vader was no lightweight. Right now, his master was a mess of wires, charred black metal plates, short circuits and robotic limbs. The Emperor had not treated him kindly and Starkiller had been glad not to have witnessed it. If he had, he might have been left sharing his Master's fate. Thank God, Starkiller had not been part of that mission. Isaard had told him that at the very mention of Kenobi's name, the Emperor had flown into a fit of rage, bombarding his Master with consecutive megavolts of sith lightening. He had informed Starkiller that Vader was in no fit state to return to his quarters unaided and dutifully, Starkiller had left the quarters to fetch him. The first unspoken rule between master and apprentice was broken; never come to depend on your inferiors. Vader had explicitly stated for Starkiller to remain in the quarters – a rule he was breaking. However Vader had broken a far greater unspoken rule of combat – never show your weakness. Vader was doing it again as soon as Starkiller pulled him into the hyperbaric healing chamber, closing it behind him.

His master had been quiet the whole journey, lapsing from semi-conscious phases to drowsiness and now he forcefully roused himself, straightening in Starkiller's grasp, planting his heels firmly on the ground. He was still leaning heavily onto Starkiller "Your order was to remain here." His mechanical voice boomed. "You failed me."

"Apologies, Master."

"I will punish you for your disobedience, Starkiller."

The young man's features pulled into a menacing leer. Vader was in too weak a state to be drawing on the force for anything. He needed time to recover and heal from his injuries. Punishment was not imminent in any case.

"Remove my shin guards and greaves."

The apprentice dropped to his knees and carefully pulled the black panels of the pseudo boots away, disentangling the wiring and structural components behind.

"Prepare the bacta tank." The second command was issued.

"Master?"

"Prepare the bacta tank!"

He gestured to the lose wires and circuitry falling out from behind Vader's body casing. "With respect, Master, you need to be seen by a medical droid to repair your electrics before you enter the bacta tank."

Vader thundered. "DO not speak!" The respirator slowed and wheezed. "I cannot wait any longer. Time is short. The Emperor is distracted."A voice that barely held any trace of emotion was straining now.

Starkiller knew. Starkiller just knew what exactly Vader was referring to. "Yes Master." He left the main healing chamber, entering a small side room, levitating all the necessary objects, breathing mask, binders, socket adapters, temperature, and fluid pressure meters. It was now time to levitate the subject itself into the bacta tank in the main healing chamber. He returned to the main healing chamber where Vader was waiting.

"Do not touch!" Vader hissed. "Careful." Semi audible grunts were heard issuing from the vocaliser. His master was helping him, helping Starkiller with the levitation. They both rose in the air and approached the bacta tank from opposite sides. The fluid inside the tank was charging.

"Fit the breathing mask for me," came his master's strangulated whisper. Starkiller found he did not have to concentrate on keeping his master air-bound, his master had gathered all reserves in doing that himself.

His master put a gloved hand into the fluid. The current in his open wires sizzled and snapped and Darth Vader issued a grunt of pain. The tank was ready.

"**Lower her in now."**

The surface of the liquid was disturbed as together they lowered her body in. She was a vision in white, her long mouse brown hair fanning around her face like tendrils of smoke. Her chest rose and fell with every breath. Colour was returning to her face but her limbs hung loosely beside her. There was a pulse in her wrist; one that Starkiller had short hours ago, purposely lowered to impossibly detectable levels. There was condensation inside her breathing mask. Her presence in the force was hidden, by Vader. To all the storm troopers in the Bainbridge suite, she had seemed dead and Starkiller had been in her suite, manipulating them to arrive at that conclusion.

Starkiller did not know who this woman was to his master but he knew one thing. In her last moments, spent staring into the face of certain death, Leia Organa had been saved. He had heard once that the last moments of an individual were defining. And who was this woman whose life was spared due to an act of defiance by a sith lord, who had killed so many in _the Emperor's_ name?

"Guard her." Vader ordered. "Do _**not**_ leave this room this time."

* * *

><p><strong>Well, what do you think?<strong>


End file.
